LTHOUGH I grew up in a builtup West London suburb in the 1950s, I used to see flocks of lapwings on low-lying fields that were too wet to build on. I can still recall watching their lazy flight and it always seemed to me that their wings were beating far too slowly for their own good. They billowed through the sky, as if a conductor’s hand were directing, translates as ‘little fan’, and they do waft through the air in a very laconic style.
